Betrayal
by Schingiuire Vristalica
Summary: Post 3x20. Zelena is not pleased with Rumplestiltskin's trickery and sets out to make him regret his actions. Severely.


He had almost had it, a bare inch more and it would have been in his hand. Rumplestiltskin paced in a slow circle around the cramped cage, face set in a dark, calculating glare. Pausing, he stared hard at the palm of one hand, still remembering the rough feel of the Dark Dagger's hilt. It was so frustrating, to have been so close, to almost have it returned, to have his will back under his own control. All that time of waiting for the perfect moment to manipulate her was for nothing. So long as she didn't hand it to him or give up possession of it, the Dark One knew he could never take it back.

The scholar within him, the creature who had spent centuries studying and gathering power to add to his own immense well of darkness, could be nothing less than impressed with Zelena's claims. To have discovered a way around the fundamental law of magic and create a working time travel spell was something he could not help but be impressed with in the murderer of his son. A shame for her he would do everything in his power to keep that spell from ever being cast by her hand. If he knew the Charmings and their little team in Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin could bet they were forming a plan. They would find a way to defeat her.

Curling his fingers, the sorcerer slammed his fist into the wire of his cage, growling in frustration. His only desire at the moment was to beat them to it. Killing Zelena was his right, and no one else's. He would never forgive Regina, David, or even Emma for taking the chance to tear the woman's heart and lungs from her chest and watching her die slowly with the realization she'd failed in the fading light of her eyes.

"How dare you betray me," her voice hissed from the darkness near his cage. She had followed after him, and as he spun around to glare at her, he realized she had lost her composure as well.

Oh true, she'd cleaned herself up and no normal human would have been able to see it, or would only see the fury painted itself over her perfect skin. No, Rumplestiltskin was no human, despite his appearance in this world. He could smell the pain on her, the screaming of her soul. It was a sound which called to his darkness like flame to a moth. These were the types of mortals he made deals with, for they were ready to give up anything to the darkness for whatever they desired.

Unfortunately, there was no deal making with Zelena, for she held his soul and commanded him to dance on puppet strings. If she commanded him to bark and enforced it with the dagger, he'd be her dog. There was no escaping her, but her desires made her easy to twist with the right words. Unfortunately, he'd used up his trump card. Zelena was not the type of witch to make the same mistake twice, that much, at least, they both had in common.

"To betray something, one must first be loyal to it, dearie," he hissed in reply, turning fully to face her, fists shaking slightly at his sides. Oh how he wanted nothing more than to launch himself through the cage and tear her in half. She'd be no match for his strength. Old man he may appear in this world, but the power of his magic was unmatched in any realm. As bitter as it made him he understood for all that power, cleverness, and might, he was a slave.

The cage was nothing, just a physical representation to her control. He could have turned it to dust with the flick of a finger. Even had the cage been enchanted against him, he would have been able to ghost himself into a cloud and phase through the wire. No, Zelena, his Mistress, wanted him here, so here he would stay.

"I offered you your son," Zelena growled, holding the dagger up, her knuckles white around the grip. "I would have given you anything. Twice you've turned your back on me, used me."

Oh she was livid, and that at least fed him. He might not have been able to secure the dagger back, but he could at least rile her. Holding his hands out at his sides, the sorcerer sneered through the wire of his cage at her. "What do you expect, dearie? I'm the Dark One, I do tend to use people. I never did understand exactly what made you think you'd be so special."

"I would have given you anything," she hissed again, teeth bared at him as she leaned against the door of his cage.

He took a bold step forward, completely aware he would not be able to harm her. The magic of his curse, of the dagger, would prevent that as readily as it prevented him from taking it from her.

"A line I've heard many times before men sell me their souls. You are no different, Zelena. Nothing special. Only an abandoned little girl throwing a tantrum because her mummy liked her sister more." His voice pitched higher, sing-songing the words as he danced his head, tilting it back and forth in tune with his old mannerisms.

Her near white eyes narrowed dangerously, a cold, calculating expression falling across her face. "Nothing special?" she parroted. "Tell me, oh great and powerful Dark One," her tone was deadly, a dancing cobra as she moved slowly to open the cage. "Has anyone ever controlled you before?" She didn't wait for an answer, slashing downward through empty air, her will and desires silently enforced with the dagger.

Rumplestiltskin snarled, grunting as his knees slammed into the concrete floor of his cage, glaring through his bangs at her feet. "Only in fantasy, dearie," he rumbled in forced reply.

Zelena was on him in a single step, tangling her fingers in a fistful of his hair, gripping tight enough to make him feel the sting. Forcing his head back, she glared into his eyes, dagger at his throat. "I would say that makes me rather special, indeed."

His lips quirked at her, dark eyes wide in wicked amusement. "You're not the first angry woman to wave a knife at the man who could care less for her. I've met quite a few of them calling on me for deals."

Rumplestiltskin was goading her, feeding from her rage and enjoying stabbing her emotional state with a hot iron over and over again. She knew it, they both did, and yet she fell for the game as readily as she fell for his kisses. Pursing her lips at the dark entertainment etched across his face, Zelena pressed the dagger's tip into his throat, enough to prick and draw forth a single drop of the black, ichor blood that filled the Dark One's veins.

"No, perhaps not," her voice was low, transcending fury into something far worse. "However, dearie, I am the first one who can use that knife to take everything from that man in more than one way."

"Oh?" Rumplestiltskin grinned, ignoring the sharp burning sensation in his throat and the feel of a single thread of blood slowly trailing along the contours of his neck. "Waving that dagger doesn't make me love you, Zelena. Changing the past won't make me love you. Nor will it make Cora love you. Trust me from experience, Cora only loved power."

Zelena hissed through her teeth, wrenching his head back further, arching his neck painfully and adjusted the dagger to press the blade's edge to his throat. "We will see when we do everything over again, won't we?"

"You're a fool, Zelena," he released in a soft, choked growl.

"Enough from you," the woman snapped, snatching her hand from his hair and taking a step back. She slashed at his face with the dagger, a deep wound opening across his cheek.

Rumplestiltskin snarled, ducking his head down and pressing his fingers to the wound, digits immediately sticky with blood. Pulling his hand back to observe his fingers, strings of his Dark One blood connecting the thick liquid from his fingers to the wound with all the consistency of hot tar. The right side of his vision, from the eye just above the cut, had gone white with pain, boiling nerves with the dagger's violent touch.

Zelena stood over him, head tilted back and canted slightly to the side, a grin now replacing the sour look. "I rather like the sound of your pain, Dark One. Sing your song for me again."

He leaned back from her, tilting his head to glare up with dark eyes swimming in a mix of rage and vile intent. "Your song is so much better. Such soft, needy sighs played easily beneath my fingertips."

Rumplestiltskin watched her flush crimson, though not from humiliation, or perhaps just a bit from humiliation. What he saw, however, in her eyes and smelled upon her soul, was all encompassing wrath. It was not the best idea, to stab at her with his silver serpent's tongue, but it was the only weapon he had and he would certainly use anything at his disposal to destroy her in any way he could.

"You are going to regret that, Rumplestiltskin."

"Of that I truly doubt, dearie," his reply was a soft purr, even as the acid rot taste of his own blood leaked into his mouth from the slash across his cheek.

Zelena leaned forward, looking over him with a malicious smirk spreading in a thin line over her lips. "I accept your challenge."

Rumplestiltskin's grin faltered, falling slightly as he narrowed his eyes at her expression. There was a different smell in the air now, one that made his brow furrow in worry.

"Stand up."

The order repeated itself within his head, echoing from all corners of his skull to build a sharp pressure that stole his breath in a pained gasp. Pressing the heel of his hand against his temple, Rumplestiltskin shifted to stand in a single, graceful motion. The pressure of her order enforced through the dagger vanished as rapidly as it had appeared. He stood, spine straight, glaring at her while his lips continued to twitch in a slight smirk. She may have perfect control over him, but the dagger could never give her what she truly wanted from him.

She stepped closer to him, her body mere inches from him as her free hand lifted to brush over his chest, fiddling with the clean, perfectly tailored suit. Hooking a finger through the buttons, she gave a gentle tug.

"A shame, I'd hate to destroy something so perfectly designed." Tilting her head, she glared into his eyes. "Take it off. All of it. You're not getting any more gifts until you earn them."

Rumplestiltskin frowned, taking a single step back from her as his upper lip quivered in unveiled aggression. "What?" Until this moment she had never tried to enforce anything of a truly humiliating nature upon him. Rumplestiltskin had always been clothed, locked in a cage, or made to follow her about like some sort of leashed dog. Never had she tried to touch him or put him in any more of a humiliating position past locking him in a cage. "You cannot be serious," he hissed, dark brown eyes watching her with deep skepticism.

Zelena smirked, watching his facial expression change. Her hand slid upward over his chest to wrap fingers around his throat. Squeezing his trachea, the witch pulled his head down to her level with a sharp glare. "Take everything off, fold it nicely and return it to me," she growled. "If you want to behave like a dog, I will treat you like one."

He felt her enforce the order through the dagger, pain slamming into his slender frame and taking him to the ground. The sorcerer's throat contracted, a scream rising from his lungs to crash into the walls. Spasming sharply, Rumplestiltskin felt his back arch. There was so much pain, brutal punishment for making her repeat the order as well as her own addition to the agony. It eased, only slightly. Just enough to allow his hands to move of their own accord and begin a fumbling pathway across the myriad of buttons and clasps of his suit. His fingers trembled, making grasping the tiny buttons difficult. However, his obedience lessened the pain.

Breathing heavily, Rumplestiltskin rolled his shoulders, letting the coat and vest slide down his arms into a pile on the floor. His remaining clothing followed in short order. Her will pushed him onward, even as he fought the very idea of being so exposed before her. Folding each item nicely, he rested the neat pile at her feet, hanging his head and remaining on his knees.

There was a pulsing ache that hissed through his body, tingling like the soft hiss of electricity through every muscle fiber. Rumplestiltskin was not entirely sure if this was the result of an aftershock of the dagger's punishment, or if Zelena just wanted him uncomfortable. The witch's laugh brought nothing but bile to his throat, but he kept his eyes on the ground in self preservation. Were she to see the complete hate mixed with humiliation, he had no doubt she would fully enjoy discovering all of his limits.


End file.
